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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25294642">Ten Days</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/crygiankie_trash/pseuds/crygiankie_trash'>crygiankie_trash</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>RuPaul's Drag Race RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, just angst that's it. i'm sorry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:07:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,340</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25294642</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/crygiankie_trash/pseuds/crygiankie_trash</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been 10 days, and somehow the world has kept turning uncaring of the fact your entire world is six feet under.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gigi Goode/Crystal Methyd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Ten Days</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So this was posted on tumblr about .. 6 (jesus christ) years ago under another name and with another pairing, but trying to get back into writing? I'm slowly revamping those fics and changing a few of the ships. I'm sorry it's so angsty. I'm sure my others will be happier. #crygirights</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s freezing in the apartment, just the way they liked it. You’d never really questioned it out loud but secretly you just wondered if they kept it that cold so you’d have an excuse to cuddle even if it was scorching outside, not that you ever complained about being curled up with them for hours on end. </p>
<p>You’ve been on the sofa for what feels like an eternity, the blend of mismatched fibers under you rubbing your skin raw , and all you can see is a kaleidoscope of blooming colors from the many paintings and sketches that litter the walls, sporadically spread across it with no rhyme or reason, as well as the red wine stains that still splatter across the wall from when they and Daegan had gotten into a wrestling match when the pink haired girl had blue shelled them in a winner takes all game of mario kart, and they’d forgotten they still had a full cup of merlot, and you’d groaned about how you weren’t going to get that bond back. </p>
<p> All you can hear is the rain steadily beating down against the large windows offering a view to the city you’d adopted as your own, it’s been raining constantly. You on the other hand haven’t cried. You want to, but your eyes remain dry, so maybe the sky is trying to compensate for you? You don’t usually ponder the deep mysteries of the universe,  that was their job. Especially when they was high and asked questions like ‘Are lobsters just fishy mermaids?’, and ‘’If you erase a word.. Where does it go? Does it just vanish?”</p>
<p>You sigh deeply, the breath rattling your lungs and roll over to stare blankly at the back of the sofa so you don’t have to see the paintings, the vibrant colors teeming with life, mocking you.  ‘You’re so brave’, it’s all you ever hear these days. Anyone that knows you will tell you how brave you are, how you’ve been cool, composed, keeping it together. How you’ve you’ve been ‘A beacon of strength’. But you’re not brave. You’re not. they were brave. You’re just terrified and floundering, blustering your way through. Faking it till you making it, with a display of false confidence; when inside you’ve never felt more alone.</p>
<p>Your entire body aches. You’re numb. Empty; and it’s the worst feeling in the world. You understand the pain, the agony. They came. They came and they took over you, and then they just .. Left. It’s as if your heart has left your body. Like it left to save you from yourself because if it was still there in shattered pieces? You’d fall apart with no hope of being put back together. You want to feel something. Anything. You want to cry, scream, reach out, react, anything but your body refuses to move so much as a single finger.</p>
<p>Is this how it feels? Is this oblivion? Hell? It’s been 10 days since you’ve lowered them into the ground. You’ve seen the sunrise, you’ve seen the sunset. You’ve counted the stars until they start blurring together. You’ve watch the sunlight dance on the walls and filter between the gauzy curtains made of what was supposed to be a sari that they’d picked up from a thrift store downtown. It’s been 10 days since you got that call. Your phone is next to you. Full of unread messages, and unanswered phone calls. But you don’t want them. The pity, the voices of everyone but who you want to hear.  Your hands reach out, pale and slender and shake as you struggle to dial the numbers, having to delete that extra ‘8’ that keeps popping up. But when you manage it and lift it to your ear. It rings. It rings and rings. And then you hear it</p>
<p>’Hiiiiiiiii. This is TicTac and CrystalMethydfromdragraceseason12 and host of Get Dusted Party. Leave a message! Do it!” Their voice is still your favorite sound in the world, even though the message is truly awful and you drop your phone onto the rug, not even bothering to hang up,and a single tear rolls down your cheek, cutting through the layers of sweat that have dried against your skin, reddened and indented from the corduroy cushions that scatter the sofa.</p>
<p>  Never again will they pick up the phone, never again will they call you back. Never again will you pick up your phone to hear their voice on the other end of the line asking you what to get for dinner, what time does your flight get in, is there anything you want them to look for at the thrift store, a picture of street art, a green lawn, a meme, and never again will you get a text message from them reminding you that they loved you.</p>
<p>You shakily reach down, dialing the number again, and again, and again. If only to hear their voice. You manage to get off the couch, only to fall to your knees, your muscles weak from days of barely being used. Your phone battery finally fails you, half way through the recorded message and a broken sob leaves your lips and you’re left in silence, the sound echoing from the darkened walls. You haven’t been able to cry, but now. On the floor of your home. The home you both build together and made your own; with nothing but a flat phone in your hand you start to sob uncontrollably, ten days of repressed emotion hitting you all at once.</p>
<p> It’s a tidal wave, like nothing you’ve ever felt before, assaulting and ravaging your insides. It’s raw, burning, all consuming, and you scream, choke, and wail helplessly, each cry more pained than the last, the sounds almost animal in nature as they tear through your vocal cords. You weren’t meant to be alone. They’d promised to never leave you, and they’d tried. They’d tried to fight to stay, for themselves. For you, for everything else in this world. Sunsets, ginger cats, paints, Missouri summers, colorful jewelry, loud laughter, thick blunts, and brightly patterned shirts in soft fabrics; but even their fighting spirit was no match for fate.</p>
<p> You need to get up eventually. To shower and wash your hair that hangs in oily clumps, to eat something, to leave the room that smells like them with the tiny personal touches that still litter the room like ornaments, the ugly keychain collection that hangs from the hook. You need to start taking steps to move on. But today isn’t that day. And so you remain on the rug, your cheek pressed to the tight weaving, squeezing your eyes shut and opening them again as if you’ll blink and wake-up and find everything is just a nightmare, a long drawn-out nightmare, though there’s only so long you can keep kidding yourself, and you’re reaching the end of that point rapidly; and it scares the hell out of you.</p>
<p>Because you need them, and you don’t want to wake up and acknowledge they’re gone, or to try to remember their face only for it to be a blur, to forget the languid way their fingers trailed along your ribs as though you were made of the finest porcelain, the way their hair fell in cocoa colored curls and the proud look in their eyes when their mullet ‘finally reached all the way to their crack’. You don’t want to forget how they tasted, or the way they laughed with their entire body, or the way that when you kissed how it felt like everything stopped and the world shrank down to the two of you no matter where you were. You can’t forget them, the memories seared into your brain, but in your head? That’s what moving on resembles. So you remain on the floor, your heart in pieces surrounded by the life you made together, and your tears keep coming in between pleas to the air around you, “Please come home?” though the resounding silence is your only answer.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'M SORRY.  </p>
<p> Note this is also posted to ArtificialQueens under the name Cashmere :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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